Rock Paper Scissors

This post has no political ties. Despite this cute pic. No, really. It's about my daughter. And what she did today. You ever get one of those moments where you want to stop time, go fetch your cam corder and then carry on? But you know if you say "Just hold on one moment, honey, please," the magic of the instant will disappear, never to be recaptured again? So you just have to sit gripping your seat and trying as hard as you can to be completely present. You switch all your reserve neurons on in the hopes that you will remember this moment for ever. Well, it was one of those events. And this is what happened...

"Mom! Come quick!" T-Bird yelled from the lounge.

"What is it, Sweetie?" I yelled back through a mouth full of pegs. "I'm kinda busy right now!"

"I'll wait for you!" she chirruped.

AirBear appeared out of the shadows around the wash line. "T wants you to come," she said.

I sensed the urgency and excitement, did a double-peg (a fancy patented hanging technique I've developed for situations such as these). Picking up the laundry basket I rushed inside to find...

T-bird all aglow, sitting cross-legged on the carpet. Two chairs were placed facing her. "Come sit, Mommy!" she pointed at my chair. AirBear had already taken her seat. "I'm going to give you," she paused. For effect. "A ROCK CONCERT!" Beaming.

I was thrilled. "Whoopee!" I shrieked. "Let's get down!"

She frowned a little and motioned me to my chair. I obliged.

Satisfied that everything was just right, she started. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to this wonderful rock concert. I'm T and I will be doing the talking." She smiled and waved. I waved back.

"Before we start," she continued, "please tell me what your names are."

"I'm Jessica," said Jessica.

"Air," said AirBear.

"I'm so glad you came here today," T-Bird continued. "Now we will start with our rock concert."

I nudged AirBear with excitement. She giggled.

"Right, " said our hostess, fishing for something in her school bag, "this is the first rock that we will learn about today." She drew out a shard of cement, her eyes twinkling. "This is an amazing rock, because, well, it can shimmer in the sun, and one side is smooth and one side is rough. Here, have a feel." She shoved the triangle of building rubble into my, I'll admit, somewhat surprised hand.

I looked over my shoulder at AirBear who just smiled and shrugged.

"This rock was made just after the dinosaurs were on earth," explained my child as I pulled out a bit of hair that was stuck in a bit of bubblegum clinging to the rock. "It fell out of the sky," she went on, "killed a dinosaur, and this bit landed in my school's playground." She really was chuffed with all of this. "But what makes this rock so very special is," and she quickly flipped it over in her hand and held it out very carefully, "that it's shaped just like a fan that's opening. Or closing. I'm not sure which."

I was still a little gobsmacked. And a bit disappointed that we weren't getting to boogie on down. But, nonetheless, I paid attention. "Do you have any other, er, rocks in that bag of yours?" I inquired.

It was like I had just offered her cotton candy. The little spark in her eyes seemed to be fanned by my question, and she took a deep breath and said, "I was keeping this one for after our interval, but since you asked, and it really is the most special rock of the day, I'm going to show it to you. Have a look at this marvelous octopus rock!" She held out a dark brown lump of petrified something or other.

My first reaction was to tell her to put it down, it's dirty, now go wash you hands, but something in me kept my germ-phobia to myself.

My little geologist turned the rock over in her hand to show the wiggly edges around it's base. She seemed almost mesmerised as she asked me what it looked like.

"Looks like a bit of hard crusty poo," the words slipped out before I could stop them.

She glared at me. "No," she said, stroking her treasure. "It's not poo because it's hard. This rock looks just like an octopus. See?" She shoved the lump under my nose for a better look. I acquiesced, just to gain a bit of distance between myself and the suspicious loam. "In fact," she was almost purring, "this is a very emotional rock." I choked a little. The word was so completely unexpected, but I'm sure she had some fantastic definition for it in this context.

"Wow," I said, nudging my fellow audience member again and giving her a wink. At this point AirBear just giggled and wriggled onto my lap. T-Bird noticed the disruption in her audience, and took her cue. "Right," she said. "We will now have a break while I get the rest of this rock concert ready. You may use this time to walk. Or drive. Or you can rock and roll."

We never saw the second half of the show.